Trunks' Day Off
by Mikila
Summary: Because of a spat with Bulma, pre-Buu Trunks is given a day off from his rigorous training schedule set by Vegeta. However, Vegeta is snippy with him because of it, but making his father happy means angering Bulma. What will he do?


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I don't own DBZ.  
  
Note: This is just a surmise of mine (inspired partially by the episode of Dragonball when Goku and Krillin are first training under master Roshi...) about Trunks' daily training schedule, set out, of course, by Vegeta. I don't think there's really any OCCnes...except there's one part about Trunks in the weight room that isn't too likely...infact it isn't too likely that the Briefs would HAVE a weight room is it? Anyway, don't flame that part. Because I'm warning you abot it now. Otherwise...I don't really think there's anything in here to get worked up about. Again, not as good as my other stories. But, this is the last of the stories I've ALREADY written that I'll be posting. (Unless I post some of the ones I wrote when i went through my phase of re-naming the characters and making Vegeta--Videto-- more father-like...and turning him into a gymnast instead of a fighter... I guess those would be parodys right??? Boy, i don't know!! ON WITH THIS FICTION!!  
  
Timeframe: Sometime before the Buu saga. Probably when Trunks is 7. But if you want him to be 4, or 5 or 6... imagine him that way, I don't care.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Trunks' Day Off  
  
  
Slowly Trunks opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was after nine! Had he really slept that long? For a moment his heart began pounding, but he quickly realised this was his day off. His mother and father had fought the night before and Bulma had won. Trunks wasn't really sure which side he was on. The fight was about him. Every day he had a vigorous training schedule his father had made out for him. Yesterday he'd complained about it. He really wasn't sure why. For the most part he liked training, but he just hadn't been in the mood and he'd told his mother that. If he'd known his mother would talk to his father about it, he never would have said anything.   
  
  
His father had been training him since he could first walk. He'd started so young he didn't even remember a time that he wasn't training. Most of the time it wasn't actually with his father, but Vegeta made sure he was indeed doing the schedule he'd been given. And they spent a little bit of time each day working together. In the same room, that is. Vegeta really had no idea what he could do. He never stopped his own training long enough to really find out what Trunks could do.  
  
  
In the past when Vegeta and Bulma argued about how much training Trunks did, Vegeta had always won. It was one spot he wouldn't give an inch on. Bulma won when it came to most other things, but Vegeta was not one to be controled and told what to do and when it came to his son, there was no compromising. Trunks was his son. He was Bulma's son too, but he would be trained the way Vegeta wanted him trained.  
  
  
Part of him felt refreshed as he climbed out of bed and pulled on one of his many capsule corp shirts and and trainer shorts. Everything he had seemed to be oversized, but he liked it that way. It gave his body room to breath and Trunks had never liked feeling constrained. But the other part of him was uneasy. His father was not happy and he knew it. Perhaps today he would be less mad than he had been the night before when he'd finally blown up.   
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
The words screached again in Trunks' head. "Fine! Let the brat do whatever he wants tomorrow! If he wants to grow up to be a little wimp like Gohan is, so be it!" Then he'd stormed out of the room.  
  
  
Trunks had been sitting on the couch. Bulma sighed as Vegeta retreated, then moved to her son, sitting next to him on the couch and wraping one arm around him.  
  
  
"Don't worry, Trunks, your father still loves you. He just pushes a little hard some times. Tomorrow is going to be your day. Sleep in as long as you want and then you can do anything you like...but don't leave the house unless you have permission, ok?" Bulma leaned over and kissed the top of his head.  
  
  
Trunks had only been half listening while worrying about how angry his father was. "Mom!" he whined, wiping his head dry from the kiss.  
  
  
"Oh Trunks," Bulma rolled her eyes with a smile, then went off to the kitchen.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
  
Thinking of the kitchen, Trunks stomach growled. All thoughts vanished from his mind as he raced down to the kitchen.  
  
  
"Well, it's about time, sleepy head," Bulma smiled. "Hungry?"  
  
  
"Uh-huh!" Trunks nodded with a giant grin.  
  
  
"Now don't you go eating everything in the refridgerator. Just sit right there," Bulma turned, taking the plate piled with pancakes in front of her son. He'd finished half the stack by the time she'd set down the pot of rice. "Slow down! Let me finish putting the food out before you go eating it all!" As quickly as she could, Bulma put out the syrup, soup, sausage, bacon, milk, waffles, eggs, toast and juice.  
  
  
"Can I eat now?" Trunks was eager.  
  
  
"Ok, but you aren't getting seconds!" Bulma quickly jumped back. She'd gotten   
used to feeding sayains and they were quite the messy breed. And they ate like nobody would ever believe too!  
  
  
Trunks was done in no time and for the first time ever he actually felt full. He hadn't done his early morning training today though. That was probably why. For a moment he was absent of thought on what to do next. He was so used to his training routine, he didn't know what to do without it.  
  
  
"Hey Trunks, do you wanna play a game with me?"  
  
  
He hadn't thought about that. "What game?"  
  
  
"I don't know...how about cards?"  
  
  
"Nah, I think I'll listen to some music," Trunks decided he'd rather be alone. He retreated back up to his room and found his dance CD, quickly sticking it in. This would liven him up.  
  
  
Immediately he turned it to Pump up the Jam and turned the volume up. Quickly he set up his action figures in the corner of the room. Then he took one of his softest balls and threw it at them, crashing the fort he'd built them into. Every one of them fell and all the blocks too.  
  
  
"All right!" Trunks cheered at his accomplishment. He bounced to the music and sang with it as he set the fort back up, this time a lot higher. Taking an even smaller ball, he examined the tower for a weak point, then threw it. "Yes!" he'd once again done what he'd desired.  
  
  
"Trunks!" Vegeta crashed through the door.  
  
  
Alarmed, Trunks jumped backward, against his bed, his heart pounding as he stared up at his father's fuming face.  
  
  
"Turn that music down!" Vegeta screeched.  
  
  
Trunks slowly reached one finger out, hitting the off button on his boom box, all the while keeping his eyes intent on his father's and his shoulders slightly raised.  
  
  
Vegeta let out breath of frustration as he turned, his fists clenched, and walked   
off, mumbling something.  
  
  
Trunks watched until he couldn't see him anymore, then he sighed, and shivered. "Boy...Dad's mad all right."   
  
  
Frowning he considered what he should do. This day off wasn't going to be any fun. Not when it made his father so angry. He didn't want that kind of disaproval. Maybe he should go through his routine. His father really didn't care about his schooling, which is what he would have been doing at this time on any other day, so he would just do his early morning training tasks instead. Maybe that would make his father less angry.  
  
  
Quickly he changed into a tank top, then he proceeded to jog through every hall in the house five times, the way he did every other morning between 5:15 and 6:30.  
  
  
"Trunks, what are you doing?" Bulma asked he he zoomed past her.  
  
  
Trunks paused. "I'm jogging, Mom."  
  
  
"But this is your day off..."  
  
  
"I know," Trunks continued. On his last lap he stopped at the door of the gravity chamber and floated himself up to look in the window in the door. His father was training vigorously, punching at everything with severity. Trunks longed to be like him one day. He would make him proud yet! Quickly Trunks ran outside and began digging the ten holes he was supposed to dig barehanded and fill in each day from 6:30 to 7:30.  
  
  
"Trunks, what are you doing?" Bulma interupted him.  
  
  
Trunks was startled by her. "I'm filling in my holes..."  
  
  
"It's lunch time! Go get cleaned up! And why are you doing that?"  
  
  
"I wanted to," Trunks told half the truth. He wanted his father's aproval and this was the only way he could think to get it. He realyl would have prefered to do soething else. "Just let me finish filling these in."  
  
  
"No, get inside. You're eating lunch with the family."  
  
  
"I'm really not that hungry, Mom...," now that was an outright lie.  
  
  
"Trunks, if I have to send your father out here to bring you in...," Bulma warned.  
  
  
"Ok, ok, ok, I'm coming!" Trunks jumped out of the hole and rushed to the bathroom, washing off his face and hands.  
  
  
"Trunks!" Bulma was apalled to see her son still in the same filthy tank top. "Don't you come in here wearing that! It's filthy!"  
  
  
"But it's only dirt..."  
  
  
"Go change!" Bulma yelled.   
  
  
Trunks rolled his eyes with a sigh. Now his mother was mad at him too. There was nothing he could do to win here. Quickly he threw off his shirt and pulled another one on, hurrying back to the table. He knew his mother wouldn't let his father eat until he'd come back and that would make his father even angrier.  
  
  
He could feel the tention between his parents when he entered the room. Looking from one to the other, he opted not to sit next to either of them. Usually he sat by his father during meals. Trunks sat on the other side of the table where he could watch both of them. His father's scowl was deep as he forcefully crammed food into his mouth. His mother's eyes were hard too. Trunks slouched in his seat, letting his eyes drop to the setting in front of him as he tried to descern what he should do.  
  
  
"Trunks, why aren't you eating?" his mother's voice made him jump out of his trance.  
  
  
"...I'm eating...," Trunks shoved one piece of bread in his mouth. when his mother looked away, he lowered his eyes again. What had he done to make her so angry?  
  
  
"Are you feeling sick or something?" Bulma interupted him again. This time her voice wasn't nearly as harsh.  
  
  
"No, I'm fine..."  
  
  
"Then why aren't you eating? You should be starved after digging all those holes."  
  
  
Vegeta looked up, a smidgen of curiousity crossing his face, but Trunks didn't   
miss it.  
  
  
"I'm just not that hungry, Mom. I want to fill the rest of them in, like I told you."  
  
  
"Trunks...are you just saying that, or do you really want to do it?" Bulma watched him suspiciously.  
  
  
Uh-oh, now he was in a fix, and both his paretns were staring at him, waiting for an answer. No matter what he said, it would upset one of them. "Uh...," he looked at Bulma, then, Vegeta, then Bulma again, "Hmm," he looked down, trying to decide what to say. But it was too late.  
  
  
"Vegeta, this is all your doing!" Bulma turned a hard stare on her husband.  
  
  
"What are you babbling about?!" Vegeta turned his attention to his wife.  
  
  
Trunks slouched into his chair. He hadn't spoken fast enough. Now they were both mad. They were going to yell again and Trunks didn't want to listen to it. Quietly, he snuck around them.  
  
  
"Trunks, where do you think you're going?!" Bulma shot. "You haven't eaten a thing! Come back here!"  
  
  
"You're forcing the boy! Leave him be!" Vegeta defended. "If he wants to starve, that's his own business!"  
  
  
"How could you say a thing like that, Vegeta? This is your son you're talking about!"  
  
  
Vegeta clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes, growling.  
  
  
Trunks waited a few seconds for the adults to be engrossed in their argument again before he left, this time heading for the weight room. Sighing he shut the door and looked around. There was nothing he could do to please either of these people. Being alone now was better than dealing with them. Frustrated, Trunks took a hard swing at the enforced puching bag, Bulma had designed for him and Vegeta to use. Unfortunately, Vegeta had long since clobbered it. The thing was only useful for Trunks now. And he was close to moving beyond it.  
  
  
Sighing, Trunks decided to use the bench and bar bells. The alotment his father had given him to lift last week seemed like nothing now. He knew he wasn't supposed to add weight without his father there, but today he didn't care. Trunks picked up two 250 pound weights and added them to the ends of the barbell. Two 250 pound weights wouldn't make any dent. His father couldn't mind that. Then he laid down on the bench, turning himself super and lifted the weight. It was heavier than he'd anticipated and when he tried to lower it toward his chest, his arms seemed to give out and the bar crashed down on his chest, momentarily knocking the breath out of him.   
  
  
Trunks struggled to push the weight back off him, but it wouldn't budge. Then it occured to him he'd added 500 pounds, not 250. Oops, that was a little more than he should have. Now he was in trouble. He had to get this thing off him. It was making it hard for him to breath. But when he tried again to move it, it only slipped farther up, weighing down on his wind pipe so that he couldn't breath as he fell out of his super sayain form. Panic settled over him as he fought to move the thing off him, but it was no use at all, especially without super.  
  
  
Suddenly Vegeta appeared in the room and grabbed the bar with one hand, throwing it away from his child. There was a look Trunks had never seen before on his face. Something like fear? No, that couldn't have been it. He must have had too much air cut off. Quickly he gasped in some air and began breathing heavily. Vegeta's features hardened.  
  
  
"What did you think you were doing boy?!" Vegeta yelled.  
  
  
Trunks sat up, sweating. "I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't think it was that much..."  
  
  
"500 pounds?!"  
  
  
"I forgot it was two times 250..."  
  
  
"You know you aren't allowed to add even one pound to that bar without me being here!" Vegeta fumed. "If you ever do this again I'll break your neck!"  
  
  
Trunks looked down at his fidgeting hands. His father was really mad at him   
now. There wasn't a single thing he could do right today.  
  
  
"Get out of here! Now!"  
  
  
"Yes, sir," Trunks, mumbled, making his way out of the room and back up to his own. He wasn't leaving his room ever again. Both his parents hated him.  
  
  
Defeated, Trunks laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He really didn't feel like being alive at the moment. Why had his parents had him anyway? All they ever did was fight about him. At least today they did, and both of them were getting mad about everything he did. The weights made sense. He'd been told, quick forcefully, in the past never to add weight to the bar on the bench. Or any of them, for that matter, but the bench was the one his father really lectured him about. Vegeta was the only one that could add weight to it. Some day off this had been. Trunks couldn't remember ever having a worse day!  
  
  
"Trunks, dinner is ready...are you coming?" Bulma opened his door.  
  
  
He hadn't even realised he'd fallen asleep. Trunks turned his head to face his mother but didn't say anything.  
  
  
"Are you feeling ok, Trunks?" Bulma walked in and sat on the bed, feeling his forehead. "You don't have a temperature..."  
  
  
"I'm fine," Trunks mumbled, his stomach growling.  
  
  
"You're starving. Come on, let's get you some dinner," Bulma stood. "Well, aren't you coming?"  
  
  
Trunks let out a large sigh and sat up. He didn't want to go downstairs again.  
  
  
"Come on..."  
  
  
"Can you bring something up here for me?"  
  
  
"Now Trunks...," Bulma put one hand on her hip.  
  
  
Trunks looked down. That was a definite no. He trudged out of the room and trailed behind his mother into the kitchen. Vegeta was already seated. Again Trunks took a different seat, this time trying to be less noticeable by either of them.  
  
  
"Come sit where you usually do," Vegeta ordered.  
  
  
Trunks watched him, not moving.  
  
  
"Well what are you waiting for, boy?"  
  
  
'Boy'. His father always called him that when he was mad at him. He'd been calling him that all day. Trunks didn't want to sit by him tonight.  
  
  
"I'd rather sit over here," he spoke quietly.  
  
  
Vegeta fixed his glare straight on Trunks eyes. Trunks stared back. He hated that look on his father's face, but he was trying to be equally strong. The truth always came out though. He wasn't and he'd be in trouble if he didn't do as he was told. Sighing, Trunks slid off his chair and into the one next to his father, slouching as far from him as he could get. He felt very uncomfortable sitting there.  
  
  
"Eat some food," Vegeta commented as Trunks sat there not moving.  
  
  
Bulma glanced at him, but said nothing.  
  
  
Trunks didn't reply. He thought about it, but he felt too much pressure. He was hungry...very hungry...but he couldn't eat with his parents looming over him, especially his father.  
  
  
"I said, eat!" Vegeta repeated.  
  
  
"I want to eat ALONE!" Trunks screamed the last word, surprised at himself after it came out.  
  
  
Nobody said a word and Trunks could feel the tention. Now he'd really get it! He kept his eyes trained on the table, letting his shoulder slide up just a little bit. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his mother looking at his father and shaking her head as if to calm him.  
  
  
Vegeta took in a large breath and let it back out. It made Trunks shiver.  
  
  
"Well, I've had my fill. I'll let you two finish," Bulma excused herself, leaving the room. Not Trunks felt even worse. His mother wasn't there to defend him.  
  
  
"Relax, son, I'm not going to hurt you," Vegeta commanded.  
  
  
Trunks scooted to the edge of his seat, waited a few seconds, then scooted right off of it and onto the next seat over. Vegeta watched it all from the corner of his eyes, but said nothing about it.  
  
  
"You will stay at this table until you are excused, so if you want to eat alone, then you can just sit here until I am finished. But remember, there will then be nobody to excuse you and you may be here all night.  
  
  
Trunks glanced up at him from the corner of his eyes and watched as his father shoved roll after roll into his mouth.  
  
  
"You do realise I may just eat all of this food up before you get any," Vegeta added after a few minute.  
  
  
Trunks watched him, keeping all his guards up.  
  
  
"Your mother wants you to know why it is so important that you don't ever add weight to the bellbars in the weight room," Vegeta refused to look at his son. He wanted him to know too, but he would never admit to his own care for the child. "So here is what she says. It can hurt you very badly and possibly even kill you to do that. Especially on the bench, like what happened today. You are not to go in that room by yourself again, do you understand?"  
  
  
Trunks only stared at him.  
  
  
"You had better answer me before I start loosing my patience," Vegeta warned.  
  
  
Trunks eyes hardened as he nodded.  
  
  
"And if you ever do go in there by yourself again, I will give you a scar to remember, got it?"  
  
  
Trunks nodded again, looking down with a sigh.  
  
  
"I have more things to tell you. Starting tomorrow your training schedule will be different. You will get up at 6 instead of 5 and you will do your jogging as usual, but you will not be digging any more holes. We will have breakfast, as usual and you will do your chores then your studies until lunch time, after which you will meditate for half an hour instead of a full hours, and then you will continue with studies instead of weight training. You will still spend 2:30 to 4:00 in the gravity chamber with me, but that will be your last task for the day, do you understand?"  
  
  
Trunks eyes widened. "Why?"  
  
  
"I've decided you train too much. You must spend more time being a child," Vegeta frowned. It was more his mates doing than his own, but he knew now that he was pushing the boy a little too hard.  
  
  
A gleam came into Trunks' eyes. "No more dodging?"  
  
  
"No."  
  
  
"None at all?" Trunks was hopeful. He hated dodging most of all because it meant he had to be restrained by a rope and had only a limited space to move in.  
  
  
"None at all," Vegeta assured him.  
  
  
"All right!" Trunks almost forgot he wasn't alone. "Are you sure that's enough though? That's hardly any training at all..."  
  
  
"That's the way it's going to be now, get used to it," Vegeta stood. "Clean the kitchen as soon as you finish eating."  
  
  
"But you're supposed to do that..."  
  
  
Vegeta looked over his shoulder with a glare.  
  
  
Trunks stood on top of his chair, a thought entering his head as he smirked. "Why would I do that, Dad?"  
  
  
Vegeta turned, smirking. This had become a game between them from the time Trunks was about two years old. The game of dealing. "Let's deal. If you clean the kitchen, I'll buy you a new videogame."  
  
  
Trunks eyebrows raised. "Ok!" he agreed, jumping back into the chair and immediately shoving food into his mouth.  
  
  
Vegeta sighed, smiling as he walked out of the room.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


End file.
